A loveless marriage

A goldfish in an ugly tank , a tank too small, too neglected, too forgotten....

I love my mom.

 Everyone does. I mean, that’s the woman who birthed me, raised me, and decided to love me the second she saw my face in that hospital room.


 Unconditional love , something only your parents can give you. But I got mine from my mom and my uncle (my mom’s brother), who lived with us for as long as I can remember until he had to move away.


 I knew I had a dad  a person to call my father who would come every year for about fifteen days to our home country. He would spend a week with us and then the rest with his “family” (his mom, dad, siblings, and their kids). My parents were married, but not out of love out of arrangement.

 A marriage arranged by the elders. Funny how they can decide who someone marries, even though they aren’t the ones marrying them.

 Soon after my elder brother was born, my dad left for Bangladesh for job purposes. I lived most of my life spending 11 months and 16 days each year with my mom, uncle, and siblings, only seeing my dad for a very short time.

 He could call my mom. But we were never really close.

 I don’t remember him holding me, carrying me, or even saying anything loving to me. The younger me never needed that. I got all the love one could want from my mom and uncle. They were the ones who told me they loved me. The ones who would come to my parent-teacher conferences. The ones who gave me more love than I probably deserved.

 I never understood why kids my age cried when their dads had to go on business trips, while I would be happy that I could comfortably walk around the house.

 I didn’t hate my dad. I just wasn’t close with him.

 And sadly, that was also the case with my mom.

 At the age of twelve, almost thirteen, we all moved to the country my dad worked in. Suddenly the man I used to see for only a week was in my life every day , though it didn’t really feel like it.

 He would leave for work before our school time and come home around 6 p.m. But by then he was exhausted, and so were we. With me and my brothers in our rooms, my dad on his phone, and my mom watching her shows, no one really talked when he was around.

 He is only really close to my younger brother. I suppose we are now too old to be held and told that we are loved by him. Maybe it feels a little cringe or uncomfortable for him.

 I thought this was all normal.

 Ever since I became aware of things, I can remember my mom complaining about him his issues with money and how he just gives it to everyone. Then again about money.

 I don’t remember us ever not having money. My dad had a good job, and we always had food on the table. But it was never about not having enough. It was about not saving enough for us his kids.


 My dad’s side of the family is really big, with five aunts and three uncles. My dad would often send them a lot of money. Even now, he gives monthly money to two of his sisters, his father, his brothers, and even extended family members.

 Now we are not young anymore. With my brother about to start university, we should be saving even the tiniest penny. But I don’t think my dad understands that. He keeps sending money to his extended family his “family.”

 They don’t even like him. They curse at him, call him names, and don’t even let him stay at their house.

 But I guess my dad loves them unconditionally.

 I thought it was all normal.

 Having memories of my mom telling us to pack our bags in the middle of the night something about how she can’t live in the same house as him anymore.

 (My mom also had hormone problems after she gave birth to my younger brother. She had to go through many operations and doctor visits. Now she is on medication that she can never stop taking. Without them, her life would be at risk.)

 I have memories of my mom crying in my arms, telling me about all this money drama with my dad. My mom telling me she wants to die and that she has tried suicide multiple times but couldn’t leave us behind.

 Tears.

 And more tears.

 Some hers.

 Some mine………

 I never realized this wasn’t normal until yesterday, when I was on a call with my friend. Her dad came into her room after coming home from work and kissed her on the cheek and hugged her.

 I don’t hate my dad.

 But I dislike him.

 For making my mom’s life miserable and therefore making our lives miserable too.

 I know my dad doesnt love my mom, i also know he had someone he liked but couldnt marry but i really hope his didnt make my mom suffer, she had no say in the marriage, I mean she was only 18 when she got married……..

 I have so much to say about how their marriage has affect me�" us (my siblings) , how my dads behaviour and his doings have made my lovely mothers life miserable.

 My mom is no saint. no kid should hear what we heard , no kid should grow up to hate their dads. but than again i love my mom so much I would gladly give her my life , i hate my dad just dislike him.

 People should marry only those who they love.No one should be in a loveless marriage like my parents, because then it isn’t only them living through it. Every moment, every memory becomes engraved in their children’s minds like rusted debris that time cannot erase.

Author's Note

not edited: please excuse any mistakes , this was written in a state of deep emotions and conflit where my writers werent as fast as my mind plus i dont know what genre this fits in , i really wish there were more options(forgot this is not ao3)

Reviews

[Marie Kinnett]

This is really sad. I'm sorry that you and your mom and siblings had to go through that. This was really good though
-Love Marie

[ARSH]

Thank you, I really appreciate it. By now, we are all quite used to it.

[Marie Kinnett]

That happens after time, getting used to the unfair treatment.

[ARSH]

unfortunately yes

[Marie Kinnett]

Yes, I had gotten use to not being able to be a child bc of my mom I had to leave

[ARSH]

I am so sorry to hear that ,no one should be forced to grow up

[Marie Kinnett]

Yea I know but its in the past now